Obsession (9780061887079) Read online

  Heed, Master—

  It did not sit well last night when you showed up with that—whatever her name was. She did have a pretty body, I’ll give her that. And her mons mossy instead of waxed—don’t think I didn’t notice its scent came from her having been given access to the perfume you had blended exclusively for me on that last trip with Wife to Tangier, recalling how you elaborated on time spent supervising the mixing of frangipani, tuberose, and spices. Bet you had some cooked up for Wife too.

  What happened last night isn’t in The Rules. What new scenario is swirling around in that surreal brain of yours? Worst—she’s a dead ringer for Wife—looks more like her than even I do—only not so skinny, thank god. How dare you bring her to Akeru without my consent. Don’t think I didn’t notice copper-burnished hair the shade of mine. I know Maja had nothing to do with this—friends there would have tipped me off. And don’t think I’ve forgotten: when we first met it amused you to casually comment I was a type that appealed to you, because I eerily resembled Wife. That may have been a turn-on for you, but not me.

  Let us go over The Rules. I am Queen Bee with full control over organizing your erotica, which gives your spirit freedom to pursue work so that your life runs smoothly. Was it only folderol you told Maja—that you’d found none qualified until you met me: “Bee has not only beauty, but smarts and though appears diffident with a gentle reticence—occasionally an unexpected take-charge attitude breaks through (absolutely!), which I find a charming combination not found in others I’ve been auditioning”—you’d taken “time to evaluate her character,” coming to the conclusion “Bee is capable of keeping under control any tendencies of jealousy in her nature” (not necessarily), “carries herself with poise” you admired, suspecting “under her yielding demeanor there is a controlling streak in her nature (definitely) requisite not only for management of Akeru but structuring her own life by ability to respect and obey The Rules.” And that “she also had intelligence and sensitivity capable of handling some tricky situation (which Maja didn’t go into) concerning Wife.” As you were still considering Nadine, Maja with her gift of sorcery consulted her oracle, concluding that position of planets at the moment when Nadine and I came together at Janus Club were significantly aligned, and, believing in the science based on the chaos theory postulated by Benoit Mandelbrot, showing how mathematically everything is literally and inextricably connected to everything else—a butterfly flapping its wings in the jungles of Brazil exerts an effect on the atmosphere here in our room right now—Maja knew the moment had come, there should be no more shilly-shalling, and she hastened to put in motion the Yab-Yum to discover once and for all which of us embodied all that you were seeking. Destiny brought it together and the outcome was—me. So that everything in your life “now fits easily, seamlessly into place,” as you so often say. And so it has. Until now.

  Stay away for a while. See how it sets. I’m not that crazy about you.

  Bee

  Pain ran up my arm as I beat my fist on the letter—how could he? “Everything in your life ‘now fits easily, seamlessly into place.’” I gave him that. He told me so—praised me, acknowledged my expertise was what made him free to create without concerning himself with mundane details—the secretaries, household staff, apprentices, assistants—how painstakingly I interviewed and screened each and every one before I considered them worthy to be part of his entourage. How proud I was the day he named our estate Talcilla, cementing our partnership in every way. “High praise coming from you, my Lord and Master—thank you kind sir,” I’d teased, giving a mock curtsey, and he’d bowed his head in deference, clapping his hands applauding. Oh god—what a fool I am. I started tearing the letter up—but instead opened another.

  Talbot,

  Having banished you from my sight until I cool off, I was caught off guard yesterday when you showed up at Akeru unexpectedly—so soon demanding punishment for past indiscretions. Lucky for you I chose the small whip weighted with tiny steel balls encased in cream-soft leather, dangling beguilingly from a handle that fits cozily into my palm, always a pleasure to wield instead of the cumbersome other (which you certainly merited). Keeping at it, I knew you wanted more, but the greater punishment would be to stop. So I did.

  Your sweet fat bottom appeared more flushed and sore than usual, so instead of soothing unguents, I chose to finish it off with a few smacks from one of those newfangled kitchen gadgets you’re always bringing home—which happened to be handy—some sort of thing with wire bristles—perfect to bring your cheeks to just the right shade of piggy-pink, ready for a sponge soaked in vinegar to rub on your bottom until you cried out in pain. Only then had you received punishment deserved. See how well I know you!

  After this it gave satisfaction to demand compensation for my titties, which had been neglected for much too long. Your aggressive yet gentle teasing caused them to rise in ecstasy as you favored not one more than the other as you sometimes do. Both were given the attention I craved, plumped up until molto contento (as the Italians would say), fully satiated as your cock entered. By then I was wild with longing, unable to hold back a second longer (although I know how that pleases you).

  Oh lover, it was divine. Fun too after, making that little supper of scrambled eggs, soft-cooked just the way you like, with a little beluga caviar folded in. The bottle of André Clouet 1911 champagne so icy-cold, so festive as we clicked glasses across the table and you humbly once again asked forgiveness.

  All serene once more in paradise. But if you really want to get back in my good graces how about a little trip—a weekend in Amsterdam? The buzz at Maja’s is that her charismatic nephew Pasha (remember he visited us at Akeru with his intriguing friend Volupia) has opened a cabaret there, which introduces diversions we might enjoy. Something not too bizarre but unusual, a surprise…surely you can come up with a reason—business, whatever—so Wife doesn’t give you a hard time, complaining as she has lately that you’re away far too often. I know it upsets you to see her in that mode. No doubt you will come up with something so she will let you go merrily on your way—what I don’t care to think about.

  X Bee

  Drowning—gasping for air, panicked, the only thing keeping me afloat was to open another—

  Talbot,

  For the second time you have broken The Rules. Without consulting me, brought a girl to Akeru—again one with more than a startling resemblance to Wife.

  As you introduced her—Dominique—I knew immediately why you brought her here without my permission. The minute I saw her I knew she was one I would never have considered suitable, bearing no resemblance to me—something about her—indiscreet and wild, with a reckless eye, which would only bring havoc into our paradise.

  As you bid me disrobe her, I sensed you had encouraged her to take a superior attitude toward me, cavalierly ordering me to apply my milk-of-honey lotion to her body, your eyes on her with total disregard for me. Do you wonder why I left the room in tears, yet, unable to stay away, returned minutes later to find her spread out on the divan, eyes closed, your face buried in her pussy as she moaned in pleasure. As you continued I could feel my pussy creaming, knowing it would be she who’d find relief—not me. Unable to stop myself I touched my mons and as your delight in Dominique brought your efforts to fruition—my jealousy tearing me apart, as she came, so did I. But you, aware only of her pleasure, noticed not (at least I’ll be spared punishment for this transgression of The Rules).

  Rising from the divan, standing in front of the mirror, Dominique coolly appraised me. Maja once told me that the unbinding of a woman’s hair by another may control cosmic powers and bring destruction, and although you might think this of no account it filled me with dread as I stood behind her watching as you leisurely unwound the braids around her head, freeing the copper-burnished hair, so similar to mine, touching it so tenderly as it rippled around her shoulders, moist from perspiration, and bid me comb it. “Hey—go easy there,” she admonished when I pulled at the t
angles. “Yes,” you agreed, “don’t be so rough, best get Rowena to come assist with the toilette.” When I returned with Rowena I found Dominique searching among trinkets on my dressing table to find hairpins which she then poked into her hair as you were now re-braiding it, fiddling it into a crown on top of her head. “How charming,” you enthused, bidding me go into our garden, gather morning glories, and upon return observe you playfully weave them into the crown. Anticipating your wishes, Rowena saturated a sponge with Eau Jasmine—handed it to you as I watched Dominique float in the scented water of the bath you had prepared as you caressed her breasts until her nipples rose into bud, worthy to be kissed. Oh Talbot, I hate you so.

  I’ve never questioned The Rules. There was never any confusion. Maja had been fully briefed and so was I. You told Maja that you had come to a point where your “erotica had become chaotic, interfering with work and home,” and passion for beauty inspired you to come up with a solution—Akeru—and so began your search for a Maîtresse worthy to reign. I will not let you take this away from me. I am your chosen one to be its Queen. I do, and have done everything to please you, followed The Rules to the letter. In the years ahead you may desire me less. This I am ready to face. And if that does happen, you will find me, as I am now, an eager collaborator whose only intent is to satisfy your most extreme wishes and fulfill your desires. Until I ran away from the orphanage—well, surely it is not difficult to figure out why control is important to me. I never had it—and now I do. It’s my life, my happiness—it keeps me sane, balanced, gives me strength to explore my aptitude to perform as you would expect, to maintain Akeru a kingdom of beauty and pleasure unto itself for your delight in which I joyously share.

  Maja knew full well what you were seeking and how to find it for you, the permanent Maîtresse, to stabilize your wandering attention span and restless spirit, a steward to be in full charge managing the erotica of your life. In return you would build Maîtresse a house (which you did—the paradise Akeru) to be in her name, putting money in trust for her independence and lifelong security. What woman who never had a home, loves sensuality and beauty, and cannot have children, wouldn’t die to be blessed with this opportunity. I was bowled over and honored that you chose me. From the time I was born I was in orphanages; never able to make a satisfying relationship with my actual parents, I stopped looking for this with real people—used my imagination to create substitutes for them in the form of idealized images. Who better than Maja to project onto her a fantasy image of nurturing Mother—and who more qualified than you, although you are far too young (age has nothing to do with it!), to project onto you the authority image of Father. Logically I know neither one of you will ever come up to what I’m seeking and that no matter where I look I’ll always be disappointed. The only reality that is not a fantasy is Akeru and that belongs to me. And no matter how I hate you (sometimes), I still crave the power you have to turn my body into an instrument of joy as it pleasures your wildest fantasies. In love still with the image I’ve derived from my own inner world even though I know it bears little relation to the reality of you who receives it. I must have been mad, deluded, in thinking that you were the one person, the answer to life and all my emotional needs, but no matter: now aware of my errors, I’m determined still to continue following The Rules to the letter as Queen of Akeru, with approval of who enters our paradise. Be fair. Never again torment me with the sudden appearance of a Dominique, or the other, whose name I have mercifully forgotten. If bringing them to Akeru without consulting me was a test, you cannot fault me, for I passed it well. And remember it was you bid them leave, finally—not I. But let it be the last time you test me so cruelly. Never will you find one more capable of following and keeping The Rules than I—none more worthy to be Queen of Akeru.

  I am so angry now I can say no more.

  Your

  Queen Bee who must be that—always.

  Chips of pain rattled my head. Inside my body an octopus seemed to be growing, restless, its tentacles pushing me into altered states. Hallucinating, in a dream, Talbot was carrying me to a divan. Bee’s voice, whispering bees on a summer’s day—rain (but how so? as outside was blaze of noon) pattered on the roof—a sound so intimate lulling me into half-sleep, half-dream. Feverishly I sank into pillows as Bee’s voice, soft, tender…

  “Look Master, no doubt you didn’t insist she wax her mons as you do mine—see—the silky hairs swirl beguilingly as on a cherub’s head,” and she buried her face between my legs—“there’s a salty sweetness you might enjoy—her clit is rising slowly, but nicely—there, suck it, here—she’ll like that. No—not like that—this”—she grabbed his finger and pushed it up into her pussy, pleased that I suffered seeing that it aroused him—I felt myself open as a flower toward the sun as Bee took Talbot’s hand, pushing his finger roughly up into me, causing me to cry out; dizziness overtook me as Bee’s face came closer, merged into mine as we became one. I pushed her away and kneeled down, took Talbot’s cock into my mouth as he stood, put his hands on either side of my head to steady it, whispering, “My darling, my love,” thrusting his cock, faster and faster, up and down my throat, but instead of satisfying himself he pulled out and lifted me back onto the chair to face him, spread my legs, gently, not to frighten, kneeling down, explored with tongue and finger, lingering as long as I desired—my voice cried, “I love you, Master, I love you I love you…” melting into quicksand as his voice came from a great distance, “Sweet Priss, I know, I know.”

  WAS IT DAWN OR DUSK? Seizing the cat in my arms I hurried away from the annex, back across the lawn into the kitchen, and filled a bowl with cottage cheese. All left now was to eat it, wait half an hour—get something in my stomach, the article in the New York Times said—and who was I to quibble? Since Talbot died I’d thought about it often. Wait half an hour—then take the ninety Seconals I have collected. Five minutes was all it would take—and sure enough—I’d be gone.

  How could I not have known that from the beginning he knew sex was distasteful to me—my joy, performance—lie, pretense, fraud. It wasn’t enough. But why did he stay? Why not leave me? How like his genius to come up with a solution so as not to let the hassles our separation would involve affect his sacred art—a Maîtresse with the infuriating name of Bee to replace what I could not give him. But the letters? Are they left in the box among mine, stamped with an invisible tête-bêche for me to find as rebuke? Or a farewell message that in spite of it all, because he chose one who resembled me, I was his true love? No—probably it simply amused him to create a paradox that might (to some) define a possible truth. His dictum, like Goethe’s, had been that the first and last task of genius is love of truth. But what truth? Was this Talbot’s—that when sexual boundaries no longer exist it frees us to integrate our personalities into the boundaries the world expects, the demands it imposes? This filled me with terror, for it would be a place of untamed impulse, in which unspeakable fantasies, perverse desires, possessive love, and all other egocentric passions of infancy continue to exist unmodified by civilization or the process of growing up. And what of this Queen Bee in their castle high—Akeru—created by her Master—my Husband? What sort of woman could condone and be partner to this? Is she a chimera? A fire-breathing serpent, a snake with a lion’s body, a second head of an antelope? If I could kill her monstrous guile, as in mythology, by pushing a lump of lead down her throat to be melted by her fiery breath, I would. How different their Akeru from our castle high—Talcilla—which Talbot and I created—did Talcilla exist only in my imagination? A ritual, a convention, a method of defense, a means of transmuting instinctive impulses to find expression in more appropriate ways—a standard method of control in which impulses and instinct are, as it were, tamed and allowed symbolic expression the world respects? Which castle is real? I torment myself—was it because Talbot possessed an unusual combination of qualities, rather than one particular attribute? Was the tension between these opposites and the need to resolve this tensio
n the motivating force that drove him to create The Rules—Akeru—seek a queen for his realm? My beloved, bewitched into a Minotaur with the head of a bull living in the body of a man, devouring any person or thing as he lives in a paradise with this Bee person. It is she who is his Muse, not I, she who possesses his creative spirit, illuminating his body and mind with pleasures; as abandoned in a labyrinth of pain and misery I am torn asunder, the flesh of my heart they feed on. How can I not deny She is true Wife—not I. To her—no Minotaur—but beloved King Jupiter. And Talcilla not the logos—Akeru. Oh the bitterness—the betrayal—with what objects had he surrounded her? Had he insisted on selecting the clothes, the jewels she wore, as he had with me? I must stop or I’ll go mad.

  PRISCILLA FELL INTO DEEP SLEEP, and when she woke she looked at the cache of pills, dazed to feel something like—hope? curiosity? dream/hallucination? Whatever it was had been awfully good—better than anything.

  The cat jumped onto her lap and sat staring at her. She replaced the cap on the vial of pills. She got up to pour the cat some milk.

  BY NEXT MORNING, reading and rereading the letters, I’d worked myself back into hysteria. The letters became the only reality, and reality became dream as I put them in my suitcase and hurriedly left Easton for our house in New York.

  My housekeeper Phoebe, after greeting me, retreated into silence, interested only in doing her job serving me my meals as requested, on a tray in the library in front of the fireplace, and making certain seasonal flowers were replenished in the rooms looking out over the river.